


Puzzle (All Our Broken Pieces)

by aldebaran26, njw



Series: Jaytim Week Prompt Oneshots and Stories [20]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Friends to Lovers, He Gets a Hobby Instead, Humor, JayTimWeek2021, Lazarus Pit, M/M, Multiverse, Playful Villainy, Shenanigans, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Puzzle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-28 13:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30140109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26, https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: Tiny Tim, wandering Gotham:*Spots the Riddler enacting evil plan and fighting Batman*Everyone else:*Runs away screaming*Tiny Tim:*Whips out notebook* “Hmm good start, but—” *Lays out detailed critique of Riddler’s plan, style, and personal grooming* “Here’s how you can improve!”The Riddler:“Huh?”Tiny Tim, ignoring him:“You know what, I’m just gonna do it myself” *Becomes supervillain, steeples fingers beneath chin* “Yes, excellent”*For thetumblr Jaytim Week 2021day five Lazarus Pit | Myths and Legends prompt.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Jaytim Week Prompt Oneshots and Stories [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1356295
Comments: 43
Kudos: 230
Collections: JayTim Week 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is fully drafted and will update weekly on Fridays until complete.
> 
> Once again, thank you to the wonderful Aldebaran, who created all the excellent art for this and gave me permission to write a story around it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes this chapter adapted from Batman the Animated Series season two, episode twelve; ‘If You’re So Smart, Why Aren’t You Rich’

Gotham at night is febrile, the streets overflowing with the kinds of activity that shun the stark light of day. Drug deals, muggings, and every kind of petty crime proliferate in a frenzy that only quiets down as dawn approaches and the nighttime denizens of Gotham return to the shadows.

By all rights, Tim should prefer the daylight and the mostly honest workers who dominate the streets during those hours. He doesn’t. For one thing, it’s much harder to hide during the day, and the last thing he needs is word of his activities to somehow make it back to his distant but well-meaning parents.

For another, Batman only comes out at night.

Tim really likes taking pictures of Batman. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of moving through the city, wiggling and climbing his way to places that are definitely off limits, and then lining up the perfect shot. He has a whole box—locked and trapped to the best of his limited ability, of course—filled with photographs of Batman and Robin, engaged in battle with their various foes. The lighting is always tough, between Gotham’s cloudy weather and the dim, occasionally broken or missing streetlights. Good thing he likes a challenge.

Tonight, he crouches beside a solemn-looking gargoyle, tucked under a flying buttress on the side aisle roof of an imposing gothic cathedral overlooking the Sprang River. It’s one of his favorite spots to watch for Batman, located on the southern edge of Robbinsville and therefore within a reasonable biking distance from home. Amusement Mile is even closer, but that’s out for obvious reasons. A photo isn’t worth whatever would happen if the Joker ever caught him poking around his territory.

Buzzing with pleasant anticipation, he sets up his camera, aiming it at the rooftops of the warehouses to the east where Batman usually passes on his way through the Bowery. He only runs this particular patrol route once a month, as part of the random-looking rota of patrols he maintains. It took Tim months to work out exactly when Batman would be here, what with the constant interruptions to the routine caused by various rogues, threats to the city, and events in Batman’s personal life.

In fact, he probably wouldn’t have been able to put the pieces together at all if he hadn’t figured out Batman’s secret identity. He huffs quietly, mildly annoyed that it took a chance observation of Robin doing a stupidly idiosyncratic flip for him to realize the boy wonder is actually Dick Grayson, which makes Batman Bruce Wayne.

Tim likes to think he’s intelligent, with the incisive wit and avid curiosity of his mother paired with his father’s single-minded focus and dedication to the topic of his choice. It’s irritating that he solved Gotham’s biggest mystery by chance instead of careful sleuthing.

Oh well.

Batman comes into sight, covering the distance from one rooftop to the next with flying leaps as his cape flickers and swoops, merging with the shadows around him. It’s like watching the darkness itself move.

Tim shivers, only remembering to take a picture when Batman has already moved past his hiding spot and Robin is right in front of him. He wonders what’s on the agenda tonight. Batman seems focused, more so than usual when he’s just patrolling for whatever petty crime might catch his eye.

Sirens wail in the distance and a bright light bursts into being, illuminating the underside of the clouds. The Batsignal.

Heart racing with anticipation, he crawls toward the edge of the roof and makes his way carefully back down the rain gutter. Sometimes, Gotham’s weird architectural quirks really come in handy, like the extra thick, sturdy metal rain gutters and seemingly pointless little decorative elements that make such excellent hand- and footholds.

Once he’s at ground level, Tim pulls out his phone and scans chirper for weird happenings under the Gotham hashtag. He hits paydirt immediately, but as always, there are so many things happening it’s hard to zero in on the right one. Break in at the museum, drunk driver going the wrong way on the Trigate Bridge, weird smell on Seventh, Poison Ivy sighted in Robinson Park, blurry photo of what might be Killer Croc in a sewer but could also be one of the actual alligators that live down there ever since that incident at the zoo—

Ivy seems the most likely bet. Tim sighs, disappointed. There’s no way he can peddle fast enough to make it to Robinson Park in time to see anything interesting. He needs to work on his endurance. Of course, he’s only ten and a quarter years old. It’s not unreasonable to have to make minor allowances for his developing muscles and frame.

Well, maybe he should apply himself to figuring out a better way to get around the city. For now, though, he’ll head home. Batman and Robin aren’t going to be coming back this way, not for a long while.

He pops his earbuds in, tunes in to the police scanner, then hops on his bike and starts peddling. At least he can try to listen in on the action while he’s on his way home.

The first thing he hears is the dispatcher reporting a fire at a nightclub in the Diamond District. He listens without much interest as his gaze wanders to the streetlamps. Odd. They’re all flickering in unison. As he watches, he realizes they’re actually flashing at irregular intervals. Hmm, that’s interesting.

It takes him a few minutes to work out the Morse code, “ _When is the Minotaur's owner as high as an elephant's eye?”_ If that isn’t a message intended for Batman, he’d be very surprised. Only Batman brings out the eccentrics of Gotham quite like this. He puzzles over the question.

The only thing that comes to mind is the new amusement park that’s under construction outside the city, overlooking the shore west of the Robert Kane interchange. He hasn’t really given it much thought even though it’s so close to his house because there’s no way it’ll last long enough to really matter. The Joker is bound to break out of Arkham the moment he hears about a new amusement park just so he can take it over, most likely to stage some dramatic and terrible performance that will end up blowing the whole place to bits.

Now, though, it’s potentially very interesting. He checks the scanners again, suddenly wary of this actually _being_ the Joker breakout. No, there’s nothing about an Arkham escape. Should he risk it?

The amusement park is right on his way home. All he has to do is take a left once he crosses the bridge, and he’ll be there. Surely he’ll be able to lay low long enough to figure out whether or not the Joker is involved. Anyway, the Morse code wasn’t really his style. Usually the Joker includes at least one or two bad jokes in his messages.

As he weighs his options, the Batmobile roars past him. He stares as the sleek vehicle crosses the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge toward the new amusement park. Well, it’s not like he can just peddle past and go home now that he _knows_ they’re right there.

Decided, Tim peddles harder, a little thrill of excitement curling in his chest. His heart starts pounding even harder and it isn’t all because of how hard his body is working to keep the bike moving. Maybe he’ll get to see Batman solve a mystery, right up close. He might even be able to take some photos of whatever bad guy is involved.

As he hides his bike behind some prickly shrubs at the gate, he runs through what he remembers about this amusement park. It’s inspired by the popular _Riddle of the Minotaur_ computer game, an MMORPG filled with brain teasers, mazes, and other puzzles for the characters to solve as they complete quests. The game’s okay, but Tim blew through the whole thing with just a few weeks of game play. He wishes there was a way to play it on extreme mode or something so it wouldn’t be so easy.

He glances past the roller coaster and ferris wheel to the funhouse and grimaces at the creepy clown face that acts as the entrance. Hopefully they didn’t go in there. Tim has no desire to walk into a terrifying clown’s gaping maw. That’s just asking the Joker to burst out of the woodwork and do something awful.

There’s no real reason to suspect that’s where the action is going down tonight, anyway. The clue mentioned the minotaur, so… He looks at the Greco-Roman style structure to the west. The Riddle of the Minotaur exhibit. That’s where they should be.

He catches sight of the Batmobile, parked at an angle in the shadow of the building, and experiences a wave of satisfaction. Now, he just needs to figure out how to get a look at whatever’s going on inside without anyone realizing.

Tim looks around, this time ignoring the exhibits and searching for something else. It doesn’t take him long to find the administration building. Like most of the park, it appears to be almost ready for the grand opening in a few days, with just a few finishing touches still being put in place. Like painting and carpeting, in this case.

The first thing he does when he finds the right building is look up. Bingo. Someone left a tiny window open, probably to air the place out after the last coat of paint was put on inside. Well, he’s pretty good at climbing buildings after all the practice he’s had. He gets a running start and makes it up high enough to grab the decorative ledge, and from there it’s easy to lift himself up and wiggle his way in through the small window.

He hops down using a conveniently placed bathroom sink to make his way to the floor, then sets about exploring. None of the doors are locked and there’s still painter’s tape on some of the baseboards and fixtures. Dang, maybe they haven’t even set up the security yet. If that’s the case, or if he guessed wrong on the building, then he’s wasted his time.

Fortunately, he eventually hits on the right room. The moment he swings open the door, his eyes widen at the sight of an entire wall of monitors. Belatedly, it occurs to him he’s very lucky the bad guy doesn’t have guards stationed in here. Whoops. These are the kind of things he should probably think about before exposing himself to possible danger.

Oh well. Some of the displays are dark or just show boring outdoor scenes throughout the amusement park, but others seem to be inside the various exhibits. It doesn’t take long to find the right one. The inside of the Riddle of the Minotaur exhibit is dark and foreboding. The perfect setting for a crime.

Silently, he reaches out and grabs a pair of headphones from the desk, plonking them on his head and then playing with the switches until he gets the right audio lined up. He watches with a creased brow as Batman and Robin fly through a grim concrete maze, solving corny riddles and dodging fire-breathing automated griffons and lethal boobytraps as they bandy words with a guy in a green suit who keeps projecting his image on the walls to taunt them and give them obvious hints. The Riddler, apparently, some new villain who seems to prize intelligence and enjoys intellectual puzzles.

It’s exciting to watch, but… kind of dumb, actually. Tim doesn’t think much of puzzles that are so easy to solve. If this Riddler guy really wanted to win, he shouldn’t be giving Batman so many obvious hints. The very best puzzles, after all, are the ones no one but the creator ever manages to solve.

“That’s dumb,” he mutters to himself as Batman on the screen solves another stupidly simple riddle and darts toward the center of the maze. “You should have used a harder riddle.”

By the time Batman and Robin finally reach the center of the maze and successfully save the businessman there—the owner of the company behind The Riddle of the Minotaur, who apparently earned the Riddler’s ire—Tim’s pouting at the monitors. “Batman kind of cheated, but still. This whole plan could have been pulled off so much better if that Riddler guy put a little more effort into it.”

He tilts his head, smiling slightly as he sees the Riddler wave a mocking goodbye at Batman as the villain manages to make his escape despite being defeated. Okay, so maybe this guy is a little interesting.

Tim can’t stop thinking about puzzles, even when he gets home. He lies in his bed imagining scenario after scenario in which he gets the better of Batman, the police, and even Gotham’s rogues with the intricate riddles and mysteries he crafts.

He’s pretty sure he could get away with it. After all, he’s managed to evade detection for the past year while following Batman around, and figured out the dark knight’s secret identity to boot.

And it’s not like he has anything better to do. His parents travel nine months out of the year and the rest of the time they’re at the office from dark to dark. The only exceptions are the occasional weekend days when they manage to scrape some time to awkwardly toss a baseball he doesn’t care about around with him (his dad) and cook a breakfast he loved when he was four but doesn’t really care for anymore (his mom).

He sometimes feels like he should miss them and wish they spent more time together, but he just… doesn’t. This is the way his life is, and he makes the best of it in his own way. The freedom is pretty nice, honestly. Only…

It does get kind of boring sometimes.

Well, maybe he can do something about that. Tim stretches out in his bed, reveling in the feel of expensive, soft sheets against his bare toes, and starts to plan.

He’ll call himself Puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tiny Tim, wandering Gotham:** *Spots the Riddler enacting evil plan and fighting Batman*  
>  **Everyone else:** *Runs away screaming*  
>  **Tiny Tim:** *Whips out notebook* “Hmm good start, but—” *Lays out detailed critique of Riddler’s plan, style, and personal grooming* “Here’s how you can improve!”  
>  **The Riddler:** “Huh?”  
>  **Tiny Tim, ignoring him:** “You know what, I’m just gonna do it myself” *Becomes supervillain, steeples fingers beneath chin* “Yes, excellent”


	2. Chapter 2

He starts small. Hidden messages and photographs planted around the city as clues in secret scavenger hunts, leading to obscure bank accounts that provide evidence of white collar criminal activities for anyone who knows how to look. He has a pretty good backlog of those types of crime built up as a product of overhearing his parents’ frank conversations about Gotham’s corrupt elite. His own growing ability to bypass digital security and make his way into places he really isn’t meant to be comes in handy more than once.

If bad guys didn’t want people to dig up all their dirty secrets, maybe they shouldn’t choose such obvious passwords. Birthdays, pet names, and anniversaries are depressingly common. As is the word “password.” They’re practically inviting him to expose their crimes, really.

The only problem is, he’s completely successful in his goal of crafting puzzles and riddles so subtle they fly right by the casual observer, and so difficult no one can solve them even if they do notice there’s something there. It doesn’t take him long to realize that making puzzles so challenging that no one can solve them is a bit, well, boring.

So he improvises. The basic puzzles get a little easier, a little more flashy. To satisfy his own growing need for a challenge, he builds layers into them. Each riddle or puzzle he creates has a second layer, another entirely unrelated puzzle beneath it. A simple to decipher digital photo message might have a secondary riddle buried deep in the underlying code. A riddle spray painted on a wall downtown could have a secondary clue hidden in the unique chemical additives of the paint used, which only shows up using spectral analysis.

Tim’s been having a lot of fun setting up a lab in the basement. His parents gave him permission to set up his own dark room to go with the camera they sent him for his birthday, after all, and what’s a dark room without a bunch of unrelated but extremely useful and expensive gadgets? Ugh, boring, that’s what.

And Tim doesn’t do boring.

Hence his new alter ego, Puzzle, aptly garbed in a costume with puzzle piece goggles and a general aura of awesomeness. It’s the most entertainment he’s had since, well, ever.

Batman doesn’t pay much attention to him, probably because his puzzles are more curiosities than threats—occasional disruption of the power grid or traffic signals to deliver his clues notwithstanding—so Robin ends up being the one assigned to deal with him. The teen never looks past the first layer of the clues, more’s the pity. Even now, a year after he got started doing this, Puzzle never gives up hope the boy wonder might someday provide a little more of a challenge.

Oh well. Whether or not anyone ever realizes the true beauty of his puzzles doesn’t matter, anyway. The true joy is in the challenge of creating them.

Puzzle sighs with satisfaction as he adds the final touches to the fourth and final clue to his current mystery—a life size caricature of the previous mayor, enlarged from a political cartoon the Gotham Gazette ran a decade ago. Puzzle just made a few subtle changes from the original that point to the mayor’s involvement in the cold case tonight’s series of clues should, in theory, rip open. As long as anyone bothers to really look at them.

The light thump of something landing on the fire escape doesn’t startle him—he spotted Robin approaching out of the corner of his eye, so he just finishes up his work and then caps the spray bottle.

Robin clears his throat. “Hey, Puzzle, we appreciate the clues and all, but how old are you, anyway?”

Well, that’s a little personal. Puzzle frowns and turns to look at him. The boy wonder—if you can him that anymore now that he’s closer to twenty than ten—balances on the handrail, seemingly at ease despite the three story drop behind him.

Puzzle doesn’t allow himself to react even though Robin wasn’t supposed to make it here this quickly. He makes a mental note of the discrepancy—clearly he needs to make his surface riddles a little harder, since Robin’s ability to solve them is obviously improving. Marginally. He’s still given no sign of noticing the hidden clues. While there’s every chance the malfeasance the mayor helped cover up ten years ago will be solved now, it’s very unlikely Robin will see that tonight’s clues have a hidden layer which would lead him to the solution of a twenty year-old embezzlement case connected to a missing persons case.

He sniffs, tilting his chin up as he regards the teen. “A better question is, how old are you?” He eyes the tights and leotard, both of which are considerably more filled out now that Dick Grayson is almost seventeen than they were when he was a sprightly boy of eleven. He eyes one of the bulges askance. “I think that’s almost indecent exposure at this point.”

“What?” Robin almost falls off the handrail, he whips his head so fast to look down at himself. “Wait, what?”

“You can practically see everything,” Puzzle says in a disapproving voice. “Honestly, how does Batman let you leave the house like that?”

Robin does fall off the handrail as he lets go with both hands and reflexively tries to cover his groin. Fortunately, he lands on the fire escape side instead of plummeting off the building. “Stop—wait, why are you even looking there?” He sounds amusingly scandalized.

Puzzle shrugs. “It was at eye level?” Honestly, it was just right there, all bulgy and uncomfortable-looking. “I don’t think you’re setting a very good example for the children.”

Robin doesn’t keep trying to figure out who he is or what his motivations are that night, which is a welcome change. He’s too busy eyeing his own costume with a self-conscious flush.

Robin doesn’t seem to want to stick around long after that, especially when Puzzle keeps innocently asking him questions about his costume. Puzzle smirks as the other boy unravels the last clue and then darts off into the night, ready to follow the lead and expose yet another crime. He gives no sign of having even noticed the secondary layer of clues—in this case, the hidden message is literally painted under the illustration, just a quick note stenciled in another color. Too bad no one will ever find it.

Oh well. It doesn’t really matter, in the end. The important thing is the puzzles. They’re always so interesting.

When a new vigilante hits the scene in the Robin costume about six months later, Puzzle can’t help but wonder whether his own heckling might have had anything to do with Dick Grayson deciding to graduate to a new grown-up vigilante persona. He hopes so. The popped collar and bell bottoms are a bit much, but he has faith that the next version of the Nightwing costume might actually be pretty cool.

Maybe.

He considers, frowning. It’s possible he needs to arrange an “accident” for Nightwing’s mullet first—otherwise, any costume the guy wears is just going to look ridiculous.

There will be time to consider that later. For now, he should probably focus on the vigilante who’s standing in front of him.

“Hey, you there! Puzzle! I’m here to get the rest of the clues for tonight’s little mystery or whatever.” The new Robin, about a foot and a half shorter than the last one, a hundred pounds lighter, and with thankfully normal-length, auburn hair, crosses his arms and glares as though he thinks he can intimidate Puzzle into coughing up the rest of the clues.

Sloppy. He shouldn’t have just dropped in on Puzzle like this. Even with whatever prep Batman has given him, this Robin has only been operational for a few weeks, and it hasn’t been much longer than that since Bruce Wayne snagged him off the streets and decided to adopt him. He really shouldn’t be patrolling on his own just yet, let alone confronting criminals he’s never even met before.

Sure, Puzzle is harmless—at least, when he wants to be—but Jason Todd doesn’t _know_ that. Also, he’s trying to cheat and get the answers without solving the puzzle. That’s not cool.

He narrows his eyes behind the goggles and regards the new Robin. “No,” he says after a long moment, turning away in feigned boredom. “I don’t think I feel like it tonight.”

“What the fuck?” Robin stares at him as though in disbelief, then waves his arms in the air, sputtering, “Goddamnit, this is all Dickwing’s fault. Asshole set me up! Told me you were a little bag of sunshine. Shoulda known that bag of _dicks_ was just tryna get me to waste my damn time. Can’t believe I already spent hours picking your last clue to shreds, even though the second clue I found with the mass spectrometer doesn’t even make any damn _sense_ for this case—”

Puzzle’s head whips back around to face the new Robin, eyes wide and a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “You found the secondary clue?” he whispers, leaning forward.

“Yeah?” Robin eyes him, looking suspicious, then shrugs it off. “Found the fluorescent pigments and got suspicious since they didn’t match the kind of paint that was used, so I ran it through the spec for everything. Took me a while to match up the results to the years and number of kills for that one serial killer that used to knock off random joggers decades ago—that _is_ what it means, right?” He runs gloved fingers through his hair, looking slightly desperate. “Because I do not want to hear it if I just wasted three fuckin’ hours staring at a screen for nothing.”

“Oh, it most definitely wasn’t for nothing,” Puzzle says with a tiny, happy smile. It wasn’t for nothing at all. Robin found the secondary clues, and seems to be on the right track in deciphering them.

He has a new playmate, someone who might just be good at figuring out his riddles. This is going to be fun. 

Of course, he doesn’t just wait for his new playmate to chase him down on a rooftop again. No, he revives one of his older hobbies. It’s about time to add some new pictures to his collection, anyway, now that Nightwing is in a new suit and there’s a new Robin in town.

He has an enjoyable, invigorating few nights of rooftop running and chasing after the bats again. It’s a pleasant surprise how much stronger and faster he is now after all the physical training and conditioning he’s been doing in his spare time. Online tutorials and rich, distant but permissive parents willing to okay pretty much any hobby, even a worrying array of martial arts and parkour, really are a fantastic combination when it comes to picking up new skills.

The photos he ends up with are pretty awesome—the best are the one of Nightwing and his mullet in all his sparkly, campy glory; the one where Robin’s arms are pinwheeling as he lands on a wobbly brick and almost falls off a rooftop; and the one with Batman taking on no less than four rogues simultaneously, in the act of using one rogue’s fist to punch another in the face. Tim considers them all carefully, then chooses a simple portrait he took of Robin smiling at some kids after rescuing them from a mean drunk. It seems most fitting for his purpose.

He adds a caption in one of the standard computer fonts that vaguely resembles handwriting and then prints the photo. Found you, my Robin, he thinks with a fond smile as he drops the photo in an envelope and then stashes it in the backpack he bought a while back for when he needs to pass unnoticed as a student. Doing all his own schooling online is really excellent, but it has its drawbacks in that when he needs to access an actual school campus, he tends to stick out without the right camouflage.

As it happens, he’s able to slip the envelope into Jason’s backpack without any trouble, brushing past him in the crowded halls of Gotham Academy. Everyone around them looks mean and stuck up, and he gets shoved into the lockers three times just watching down the hall. It makes him even more grateful his parents didn’t care enough to make him go here.

The tiny camera he planted on Jason’s backpack was a bit of a risk, but he doesn’t regret it when he checks later and sees his reaction upon opening the envelope. His dark eyebrows soar over vivid blue eyes and he looks completely stunned. “Shit, a stalker?” he whispers, still staring at the photo in his hand.

* * *

  
Puzzle and his Robin. Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

Tim smiles, clutching the next envelope and considering whether it would be best to deliver it tomorrow, or wait a week or two to ramp up the anticipation. He’ll have to choose another time and method of delivery, of course—it wouldn’t do to repeat himself. 

This is going to be even more fun than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Puzzle, rubbing his hands together gleefully:** “I’ll make puzzles so hard, no one can solve them!” *Makes puzzles so hard no one can solve them*  
>  **Puzzle:** “This is significantly less fun than I expected”  
>  **Robin Jay, popping up out of nowhere:** “Ugh you suck, your puzzles are so damn hard it took me HOURS to solve this one!” *Thrusts solution in Puzzle’s face, scowls*  
>  **Puzzle, clutching solution, murmuring:** “You… you solved my puzzle?” *Instantly falls for him, plans friendship overtures. Is poorly socialized enough those friendship overtures bear more than a passing resemblance to stalking*  
>  **Robin Jay, pulling creepy stalker note and a photo of himself out of his backpack:** “Omg wtf” *Internally panics*  
>  **Puzzle, watching:** *Beams* “Yay I made a friend!”


End file.
